A Very Exclusive View
by stcrmpilot
Summary: After freeing the Edifice, the Doctor takes one last look at the version of Gallifrey outside the windows of his and Donna's flat. (Based on the BBC audio The Forever Trap, but makes sense alone)


The Doctor thought she hadn't noticed the way he looked out the window. How he glanced towards it every time he entered the room—from the moment they'd been kidnapped and dropped into their room on the Edifice, right until it was time to leave—despite having drawn the curtains after the first time they'd noticed the view. How he hesitated, just about to step into the TARDIS to fly them away from that disaster of a tenancy agreement, before calling to her that he needed to check something first and going back into the flat.

 _Stupid alien_ , thought Donna, as the door swung shut behind him. But she could hardly blame him, now could she? If she were in his place…

 _"How is it making us both feel at home?" she asked, looking out over a landscape of snow-capped mountains crowned by a russet gold sun._

 _The Doctor pointed down into the valleys, at the cluster of buildings that certainly did look, inexplicably, like Chiswick. "That's you, Donna Noble." He raised his hand and pointed at the mountains. "And that's me."_

 _"You? That's Gallifrey?" Donna was struck by the oddest mixture of awe and horror. "That's what it looked like?"_

 _"Yes," he said._

Donna understood, now, why some of the people on the Edifice had chosen to stay, even after the Doctor fixed the building and gave them the chance to go home. She never would, of course, out of spite for the way they'd been trapped there against their will, if nothing else. But she understood. When not run by an ancient, evil alien being, the infinite complex really was quite good at catering to its residents. Though the telesensual holo-whatever he had called it wouldn't have been a huge incentive to her—she didn't need the building to show her her home to make her feel comfortable, she could see it whenever she liked—she figured that view must mean everything to the Doctor.

Donna had wondered absently in the past whether he would ever show her what his home had looked like, but she'd never expected to see it.

 _"It's so beautiful," she breathed, for once truly at a loss for words._

 _"Yes it was," he replied. "It really was."_

And his voice had sounded so thick with emotion that she had torn her gaze away from the melded image of their homes to study the Doctor. He looked different, right in that moment, like the sight had activated a long-dormant instinct in him. He seemed to stand taller, straighter, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders squared. She had remembered the time he mentioned offhandedly that the people of his house, back on Gallifrey, had worn red and golden robes; she'd laughed, unable to imagine the Doctor in red and gold, let alone robes, but she saw it then. He looked like a Time Lord in the light of his own sun, from his stature to the way the sky had reflected in his eyes, turning their warm, soft brown to flame.

Donna had, initially, meant to let him have his alone time, knowing how he liked his privacy. But after a while, she began to worry about him. She was hit by the sudden and irrational fear that he might not want to leave. Would he settle down on the Edifice, if it meant he got to see Gallifrey again?

She doubted it. That scene outside the window, that wasn't really Gallifrey. Just a cheap copy. If anything, she knew the sight would only torment him more.

Suddenly, she couldn't stand the thought of him facing that alone, privacy be damned. As quietly as she could, she eased open the door of the TARDIS and walked back to the living room, careful not to make a sound. The building, now once more able to heal itself, made not a creak as she moved to stand in the doorway.

All the lights were off (they were, after all, supposed to be leaving) so that the Doctor was nothing more than a lanky silhouette at the far side of the room. Rich golden-red light—the colour of those one-in-a-thousand sunsets you got on Earth that everyone seemed compelled to stop and stare at—bathed the pristine space. Beyond, through the window, the snow on the claw-like mountain peaks appeared soaked in blood, the sunlight throwing the crags and crests into sharp relief. The Doctor, haloed in gold, stood stock-still, gazing out over the dead world. No longer did he seem tall and stoic, but somehow deflated. Sadder. Older.

Donna couldn't bring herself to move any closer, to break him out of his reverie. She felt like she was disturbing a mourner at a graveside; like this was not something she was supposed to see, perhaps wasn't even worthy to see it. And yet she couldn't turn away.

As she watched in silence, the Doctor raised a hand, fingertips outstretched, as if to feel the cool mountain air on his skin. But, of course, there was none to feel; the Gallifrey in front of them was nothing but a trick of the Edifice, a reconstruction of the memories he associated with home. He stopped before he could touch the telesensual barrier. He couldn't bear to ruin the image. In the silence of the flat, she heard him draw a shuddering gasp, and he wiped at his cheeks.

 _Oh, Doctor_ , Donna thought, as he let out the breath as a quiet sob. He leaned against the windowsill, shoulders hunched, trying in vain to muffle the sound with his hand pressed over his mouth; after a moment he seemed to give up his attempts at dignity and sank to his knees in front of the window. He hid his head in his arms, rested on the sill, and he cried.

Donna knew she was intruding. She knew he wouldn't want her to see this. But she also knew she wouldn't forgive herself if she left him then. So she crossed the room, quietly, almost reverently, knelt beside him, and placed a hand on his back.

He lifted his head in surprise, hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Donna." His voice trembled, but he didn't sound angry. "Sorry." He sniffed. "We should be going, I'm sorry, I just–"

"I know," said Donna. She turned her gaze back to the window, rubbing his back gently. Only the very tips of the mountains were visible from their spot on the floor, most of the view filled by the vast burnt-gold sky. Little wispy clouds drifted across the sun, almost nonchalant, innocent, utterly unconcerned by what they meant to the people watching. Just looking at that view—that impossibly beautiful view—no one could have guessed at the tragedy it represented. Not even her, really.

The Doctor shuddered as he stared up at the sky. For once, he was making no effort to hide the emotion on his face, a strange mixture of the sorrow and pain and longing that Donna would expect to see, and a deep, profound love that was somehow even more heartbreaking. She had thought, once, that she could sympathize with what he'd been through, that she could at least imagine how he felt about Gallifrey, even if she'd surely never experienced something so awful. But seeing how he looked at his world… she thought that might well be impossible.

Donna slipped her arm around his narrow shoulders and pulled him closer to her. "I'm sorry, Doctor," she said. "I wish I could help."

"I just–" His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "I'm alright. I just had to see it," he said. "One last time."

"The TARDIS couldn't show you a simulation?" she asked. "She once trapped me on the holodeck on top of the London Eye for four hours, you know."

He laughed quietly; then his face fell again. "Never could bring myself to ask her." His lip trembled and at last he broke his gaze away from the sky and looked down at the floor, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I miss them," he whispered brokenly. "Donna, I miss them."

He said it so simply, but the feeling behind his words, all the things he left unsaid, would have filled a book. Donna was suddenly at a complete loss; she didn't think the universe contained words to ease his pain, certainly none she would ever think to say. So she just lay her head on his shoulder as he wept, letting him calm down in his own time, tears slipping down her own cheeks as she watched the sky with him. She knew all he needed was to work through this—to feel the grief rather than ignore it, which he did all too much, in her opinion—but she hated to see him upset. He didn't deserve that.

It was a while before he quieted, his breathing slowing and evening out. Finally he sighed, looking down at Donna. "Thank you," he said, so soft she almost missed it.

Donna lifted her head to meet his gaze, and smiled. He looked worlds better; even though the alien sunlight seemed to make all the years of his long life show on his face, though his eyes were still soft and sad, that characteristic sparkle shone through. Strong as ever. He could be as moody and anxious and downright depressive as he liked, but let it never be said he wasn't resilient. She glanced back at the window.

"For a view like that," she said, "I figure the Edifice could get just about anyone to move in."

The Doctor's mouth twitched into a hint of a smile. "I'm sure it could."

"Would you stay?" asked Donna.

There was a moment of silence. Then he shook his head, almost sadly. "Nah. Can you imagine? Me, living in an flat!"

She laughed. It was a ridiculous image. "Not even for Gallifrey?"

"That's not Gallifrey," he murmured. After a beat, he said, "Besides, I couldn't give this up. The TARDIS is my home." He threaded his fingers through hers. "No, I just couldn't… I couldn't fly off without facing it."

Donna was silent for a moment. She was just about to ask whether he was ready to go when he got to his feet, pulling her up with him.

"Let's get out of here," he said with a boyish grin, that was maybe just a tiny bit forced. Donna chose to ignore that.

"Please," she agreed, thinking back to all the horrors the Edifice had thrown at them, just hours ago.

Hand in hand, they walked back to the TARDIS. Neither looked over their shoulders at the window, with its melded landscape of Chiswick and Gallifrey. Human and Time Lord. And maybe, thought Donna, just maybe, the Doctor was alright with that. Or he would be, one day.

He flung open the door with all his usual vigour, marching down the walkway to the console. Then he stopped, his expression suddenly turning thoughtful. Donna nearly walked right into him. He spun to face her.

"What makes you think you can't help?" he asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.

"What?"

"You said you wished you could help, why would you say that?"

Donna stared for a moment, caught off-guard. She shrugged. "Because I can't? Don't you get me wrong, Doctor, I'm always here for you, but–" She sighed, searching for the right words. "I just feel like I can't really, properly help you. I mean, I'm not a Time Lord, I'm just… just human. I don't know what to say to make you feel better. I don't know how. And you– God, you deserve so much more than that."

He moved closer and placed his hands on her arms, a soft smile spreading across his face. "I don't need a Time Lord," he said after a moment. "I need a friend."

She studied him, momentarily unconvinced. Surely he was only saying that for her benefit, she figured. But she realized that he was serious, and she felt some of her misgivings melt away. Not all, but some. "I think I can do that," she said.

He broke into a grin, and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. "Thanks for coming to check on me," he murmured.

"Don't mention it, Spaceman," said Donna.

For a minute they just stood there, letting the weight of each other's arms ease the stress of all that had happened that day. When they broke apart, the Doctor pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head and went darting off around the console, preparing them for flight. Donna watched him, smiling. Though the TARDIS was cold, for a human, she felt warm. Every once in a while, at times like this, she re-realized just how extraordinary he was. An experience like that might've broken a lesser person; it would've broken her, she knew that much. And yet somehow he had gotten by with nothing but a bit of time and a bit of company. He was always doing that, it seemed.

"So," he was saying, bustling around the room, "where to next, Donna Noble? Oh, _oh!_ Have I ever taken you to the markets on Shan Shen? Now those are brilliant. Or how about the tar swamps of– What're you doing there?"

He had been interrupted by Donna, who had moved to stand in his path.

"Or how about hot cocoa and a movie?" she suggested.

His expression went from excited to gentle in an instant, the tension draining from his wiry body. "Even better," he agreed.

Donna took his hand in hers and looked up at him, searching his gaze. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked quietly.

The Doctor took a deep breath and glanced around the console room, as if purposefully taking it all in. Then he looked back to her, and his eyes were warm and soft. "I will be," he promised, and smiled.

And Donna knew, for him, that would be enough.


End file.
